Territory
by AJCrane
Summary: It seems territory has become an issue between them, at least from Nightwing's perspective. Can they work out their differences or will it drive them further apart before it's too late? This is a three shot. Read the A/N to get the full description.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: After their last argument, Bruce sent Dick to Bludhaven to investigate several murders where bodies have ended up in Gotham. Nightwing has had a busy time and the investigation continues to be hampered from other events. In the process of his investigation, Nightwing discovers someone is running guns into Gotham, guns with armor piercing bullets. Rumors are flying that Blockbuster, local kingpin of the underworld, is somehow involved. In the process of trying to stop them, he crosses into Gotham and meets up with his old mentor.

Dick is 19 and has been Nightwing for two years. Tim is 14 and has only been Robin for six months. He lives with his parents part of the time and living with Bruce when his parents are out of town.

Territory

By

AJ

Part 1

Stopping a dozen men wasn't easy. Despite the fact that Batman was there to assist, Nightwing felt like he had somehow violated an unspoken code. He should have stopped the men before they crossed the river, but they had at least a couple of hours head start, and by the time he relocated the van, the seven men from Bludhaven running guns and ammunition had already met up with their contacts in Gotham City. Why did it take so many? What were they toting? They were able to catch them by surprise and between the two Nightwing and Batman were able to apprehend all twelve men without anyone firing a shot. Once the men were tied up, the old argument loomed.

'Thanks for the assist," Nightwing stated even though his back was toward his mentor. "Though I could have handled them myself."

"Why are you here?" Batman asked. "I sent you on a mission."

"Seven of those men are part of my mission," Nightwing argued. "I'll be heading back to Bludhaven with them. You can keep the other five."

"It's been six weeks. You hadn't reported in," Batman stated.

"Checking up on me? There's nothing to report," Nightwing argued. "I've been a little busy. Finding who was responsible takes time. They haven't left a lot of clues to follow," Nightwing stated, remembering how Batman just weeks before rejected his help at every turn, saying he was reckless and unprepared. Those memories were still strong as they flashed across Nightwing's mind.

"I didn't ask for your help," Batman growled.

"Then let me know what's going on. You used to remember?"

"This isn't up for debate. You cost me an informant. You intruded on an investigation I'd been working on for days."

"Intruded, the man was going to shoot you in the back!" Nightwing argued.

"I had it covered. Go home!"

Nightwing ignored the last statement. "That's not what it looked like to me. I'll leave you to YOUR city. You could have at least thanked me for the help, but you've made it perfectly clear, you don't want any. Is that why you sent Tim away for three months? It's obvious you don't want me as a partner any more, but Tim, he's Robin. Didn't his words sink in six months ago?"

Nightwing could see that his words had stung his former mentor, but Batman held his anger.

"I don't have to explain anything to you, Nightwing. GO HOME!"

"I would if I had one, you threw me out remember . . ." Nightwing jabbed back. All the memories good and bad came flooding back to him. He remembered trying to establish a home for himself in Metropolis, but that was short lived. He went to New York but that also did not last. He returned when he heard about the new Robin, Jason Todd and tried to reconcile with Bruce. That didn't last either once he started to get to know Jason and realized just how troubled he was, and when Jason was killed, he tried to help Bruce through the pain, but once again he found himself out in the cold. Going home to Haley's Circus Nightwing thought he could pick up the pieces of his life, but learned instead that he couldn't fully return home. He didn't belong there either. It was there that he met Tim and it was Tim who told him about Bruce being out of control since Dick left. Worry drove him back to Gotham City once more. After Two-Face tried to kill them and Tim lectured Batman on why Robin had to live, Nightwing tried to let the old arguments rest, returning to the Manor to help Tim with his training, but returning to the Manor meant having to live under Bruce's rules, and once again their relationship was strained.

Soon after, Batman sent Nightwing . . . ordered him actually, like some disobedient child, to go to Bludhaven to solve a murder case, a murder case that had yet to be solved. Nightwing suspected that if he didn't get results soon, Batman would start to check up on him, making him feel like he was inadequate to the task. Now they were standing on top of a parking garage over a dozen men they had brought down together, and still Batman was treating him like a child, this time questioning his presence.

"I . . . didn't want to . . . come here," Nightwing stated with gritted teeth; trying to hide the rejection he continued to feel since the last time they fought. "I had no choice. They crossed the river and . . .intruded."

Nightwing's words suddenly cut the part that was Bruce. 'Gotham was . . . is still your home,' Batman thought as he realized his words had affected his son very deeply. Strong words from a certain butler rang in his ears. Back pedaling, Batman tried to make amends. "There is no intrusion."

"You could have fooled me," Nightwing said sarcastically despite Batman's statement bringing a surprised look on Nightwing's face. I . . . I didn't think . . . you'd . . ."

". . . Come to the cave, we'll talk later."

Nightwing's heart skipped a beat. What was going on? Batman had been so cold lately, but now . . . They hadn't talked in weeks, and when they would it always seemed to end in an argument. Something had changed.

"We better wrap this up before the authorities get here," Nightwing stated. "The last time I was here . . . I nearly got shot by Bullock."

"I'll set the Detective straight," Batman said.

Once again, Nightwing was taken aback. Something had happened to Batman, but Nighwing wasn't about to figure it out at that moment. They had a dozen thugs, some from Bludhaven mixing in with Gotham's worse to sort out.

"I should take these seven back to Bludhaven since they're from my territory . . ."

"Let the police work it out," Batman stated. "There are more important things that need discussing."

"All right . . . What did you do with Batman?"

Batman gave Nightwing a momentary glare to reassure the young man that no one had taken control of his mind or that he wasn't some imposter. "Let's just say our mutual friend Agent A can be rather persuasive in reminding me what's important."

'So, Alfred got to him. Maybe it is time that we talk,' Nightwing thought. "We've got a job to finish here, first.0"

"You're right," Batman acknowledged.

As they were about to figure out what to do with the dozen or so men . . . handing them over to the Gotham PD preferably, Nightwing realized he needed one more piece of information in order to wrap up the case he had been working on in Bludhaven.

'I've got to get information that Blockbuster is behind those murders,' Nightwing thought. 'Detective Soames was the one who hinted at it. That was the reason why Bruce sent me to Bludhaven in the first place."

Nightwing walked over to one of the men he recognized from the case files he secretly examined. The man was suspected of being one of Blockbuster's dealers, but no one could link him to Bludhaven's notorious mob boss.

"All right Jacob Billings, I see that dealing drugs wasn't enough for you. Moving up in the underworld? Spill . . ." Nightwing pulled Billings near the edge of the roof of the six-story parking garage, hoping to put a little scare into the drug dealer turned gunrunner. "Whom are you working for?"

"I'll never tell."

'My arm's going to get really tired, Jacob" Nightwing stated. ""Don't know how much longer it can hold out. Falling's not bad, it's landing that's the killer."

"You . . . you can't get me to talk," Billings stated though his voice started to waver. "Ahhhhh."

Nightwing let the rope slip just a little. "You know, my hands are getting really tired. And you can get down, either the safe way or . . ." Nightwing let the rope slip a little more. "The fast way."

"All right . . . I'll talk . . . Just pull me up!"

Batman watched his son work, marveling that after all this time the methods that he would often use were being used by his former Robin. He had to admit, though Nightwing did appear to be reckless at times, he did have style. Then something caught his eye, a glint of moonlight on metal.

"Nightwing, look out!"

The first shot hit Nightwing near the center of his chest and spun him around while a second shot fired immediately after hit Billings in the head. Jacob Billings was dead before he hit the ground, while Nightwing was suddenly being dragged over the edge of the roof from Billing's weight. Batman sprang into action, grabbing a hold of his fallen son and former partner before he fell completely over the edge of the parking garage's roof. He pulled him back to safety then carried Nightwing behind the protective screen of a nearby stairwell. There wasn't much cover as the bullets continued to fly.

"Nightwing! Nightwing!" Batman shouted, sounding frantic. 'I've got to get him back to the cave. 'That wound looks bad. Why isn't he wearing armor?' As Batman tried to staunch the wound in Nightwing's chest, he realized that Nightwing was wearing armor. The bullet had pierced through the Kevlar like it was butter. Not only that, there was no exit wound and Batman feared that the bullet could be close to Nightwing's heart. The bullet might have pierced a lung. Without examining him, Batman feared that Nightwing . . . 'No, I can't think that way. I need to get him back to the cave, now.'

Despite the critical injury, Nightwing continued to talk, admonishing himself for whatever wrong he felt that he committed. "Should . . . have stopped . . . them before . . . they reached . . ." Nightwing's words went down into a whisper that was barely audible. *Cough * Cough * "Territory . . . Stupid . . . Should . . . not have . . . crossed . . ."

"Stay with me, Nightwing," Batman coaxed, but he soon realized that Nightwing had passed out and that he was rapidly loosing blood. 'Don't bleed out . . . don't die on me, dammit!'

Batman pressed a cloth to Nightwing's wound, packing it to keep it from bleeding further. Lifting NIghtwing into his arms, he raced across the open area of the garage to the opposite side and dove. There was nothing he could do for the men that were tied up. They were sitting ducks, but Nightwing needed him more. Shots continued to ping past him. Whoever the assailant was that person didn't want them getting off the roof alive. He sent out a grapple to break his fall and landed right next to the batmobile. With a click of a button, he opened the vehicle and placed Nightwing in the passenger seat. Once inside the vehicle, he contacted the bat cave.

"Alfred, prepare for surgery," Batman stated.

"Are you hurt sir?" There was a hint of deep concern in his voice.

"No, it's . . . Nightwing. He's been . . . shot," Batman stated, his voice trembling. Overwhelming fear threatened to swallow him whole. It was too much like when his parents had been shot and killed. He kept seeing that image in his mind mixed with Nightwing's image of falling . . .

"Nightwing, Sir?" Alfred was surprised at that revelation. "I thought he was in Bludhaven."

"I'll explain when I get back to the cave. He's going to need blood as well as your ministrations Alfred. Please . . . I."

"I understand Sir," Alfred replied, interrupting his charge. 'I shall do what I can."

Batman willed the car to go faster. Time was a commodity they could not waste. 'Why did my ancestors have to build a house outside of Gotham?' Batman groused. 'I've got to make it . . .' His heart demanded but his thoughts were saying, 'It's too far.'

Batman pulled into the bat cave. He jumped from the driver's side and nearly ripped the hinges off the passenger side as he rushed to pull Nightwing from the car. He raced with his burden to the medical bay and laid him on the exam table. He turned to look at the old butler, pleading to help his . . . former partner . . . and son when he noticed the butler's ashen face.

"Pull it together Alfred," Batman stated. "He needs you."

Batman turned away, trying to hide the anguish he was feeling. He didn't know whether to go back out and search for the shooter, but at the same time, knew that the shooter would be long gone. Ripping off his cowl, he opted to stay, watching in the background, hoping beyond hope that Dick . . . his son . . . would not die, that he made it in time.

Alfred turned back to his patient, aware that Bruce at this moment was in deep anguish and worry for his son. Though it wasn't official yet, ever since the boy had entered this house, no . . . ever since Bruce carried the boy from the Center, Dick Grayson became his son. And right now the look on that father's face was one that Alfred recognized all too well. 'It was that very same anguish he faced when his parents died, even the night that Jason died. We are lucky that Tim is not here to see this. No. Master Grayson shall not die . . . not on my watch.'

Alfred swallowed the lump in his throat and put on a stony expression that rivaled Batman's. He immediately got to work, cutting off the Kevlar shirt with a special scissors that Batman had developed. He attached an IV to make certain that his patient received blood and other fluids before removing the bullet. With Nightwing unconscious, it was a blessing in disguise. He didn't need the painkillers. He would once the bullet was removed. Prepping for surgery would not take long. He had practice over the years, even secretly tested for his surgeon's license in the U.K. Not all of his trips home were family related. Alfred moved the portable X-Ray machine in place and slipping in a cartridge of film, he snapped the picture. This particular machine wasn't on the market. It was completely digital even though it still used a film cartridge. That was backup, just in case the digital file was lost. Alfred opened the digital file of Nightwing's chest to see that the bullet was lodged against the breastplate near the third rib right over the heart.

'A centimeter higher or lower and to the left, and we would be burying the very first Robin,' Alfred thought. 'I must be cautious.'

The bullet came close, very close. It was nearly touching the soft tissue and with every beat of Dick's heart, Alfred feared the bullet would pierce it all together if he didn't act quickly. Not only that, Alfred observed just how close Dick had come to loosing his life. The breastplate and third rib barely stopped the bullet. The Kevlar at least slowed the bullet's progress, but it should have stopped it all together. What kind of bullet was this to have pierced the young man's uniform and flesh? The young man was lucky to say the least. It was a miracle. It was also a tricky operation. Very few could accomplish such a feat. Only one other surgeon could do it. He wasn't available, and to contact him at this stage would cause questions he and Bruce were not prepared to answer. Dr. Thomas Elliot, Bruce's childhood friend, had saved Bruce from a crippling, even life-threatening injury two years ago. They covered up that injury with Dick's help, and Elliot was called in. This time, it was up to Alfred.

Silence prevailed in the cave, making it feel like an underground tomb. The only sound that could be heard was the faint squeaking of the bats high up in the cervices and stalactites. Alfred was also very much aware of Bruce's pacing. He had dealt with his charge's fearful nervousness before. When Alfred pulled out the bullet and dropped it on the tray, it was with welcome relief. Even he did not realize he was holding his breath as he extracted the foreign object that abused the young man's body. He was applying the last of the stitches when Bruce approached.

"He is going to need a lot of rest and rehabilitation," Alfred said. "That . . . that bullet came close to piercing his heart."

"It's an armor piercing bullet." Bruce said his voice becoming hard as steel cable, letting Batman enter his world.

"Armor piercing bullets? You have to inform Commissioner Gordon on this new development. If the criminals get a hold of those things . . ."

"I'm aware of it Alfred."

"How did . . . Nightwing get shot?" Alfred asked.

"Sniper, neither one of us saw." Bruce stated. "I . . . should have . . ."

" . . . Master Bruce . . ." Alfred commanded sharply drawing Bruce's attention. "It is not your fault, but the arguments you have been having with your son must cease. He nearly died tonight."

Bruce had to concede that Alfred was right. The arguments had gotten out of hand and if Dick had died . . . There would have been no way for them to reconcile. Bruce had to admit that Nightwing had been treating their latest argument as a rejection, and Batman could sense that.

The faint sound of a respirator machine caught Bruce's attention. His heart sank to his stomach when he moved back to the medical bay and found his eldest son hooked up to the machine, aiding the young man's breathing.

"How . . . What?" His tongue was thick in his mouth, preventing the words from escaping.

"Master Richard will be fine, but there was damage to his breastplate from the bullet. Breathing would be difficult, so I took the liberty of hooking him up to a respirator. I have placed him in an induced coma so he will be able to heal."

An induced coma . . . breastplate damaged . . . The words barely registered. "When will he be out of danger?" Bruce asked.

"You know that is up to him, Master Bruce."

'I should go after the person who did this,' Bruce thought, 'But . . . how can I leave my son in such danger.'

"Master Bruce, it will be several hours before Master Richard will come to. Perhaps there is something you can do."

'He knows I need to be out there,' Bruce thought. "Of course Alfred. Inform me once he is awake."

"I shall immediately," Alfred stated. 'He is no good here. Master Richard will not be able to tell him who shot him until he is awake. Though I would prefer he stay, Master Bruce may do some good being out there, searching for the person who did this.'

Alfred watched as Bruce put on the cowl one more time and climbed into the batmobile and headed once more to Gotham City.

'Good hunting, Sir,' Alfred thought. "I hope you find the person responsible.'

Continues with Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

Territory

By

AJ

Part 2

Batman went back to the scene where Nightwing and he took down the gunrunners and where his former partner had been shot. He called Commissioner Gordon to confirm they had collected both the dead man and the rest of the gunrunners and their contacts. He arrived at the scene to find Commissioner Gordon waiting for him and a few officers also searching the scene for clues.

"We collected the five from Gotham, but six of the seven from Bludhaven, they're dead, including the man we found on the ground. We had to call the coroner's office and have them send a couple more meat wagons. Why didn't you make certain the shooter was caught?" Commissioner Gordon asked. "That's not like you to leave during an active crime scene, Batman."

"Nightwing was shot in the chest," Batman confessed, trying not to betray the worry that he still felt. "I had to get him medical attention."

"Nightwing? I've seen him in Gotham a several times."

Batman stated. "You saw him more than that. You saw him grow into a fine man." Was all Batman would say on the subject. Batman gave a slight smirk when he sensed the older man's eyes grow wide at realizing just who Nightwing was . . . and is now. "I need to check something across the street. I want to talk to the remaining man from Bludhaven first."

"He's not in very good shape," Commissioner Gordon stated. "He should be sent to the hospital. He's lucky that the bullet only pierced a lung. I'll let you talk to him for five minutes then we're going to have to send him to the hospital for treatment."

Batman moved over to the gurney where the paramedics were working to prevent the one remaining man from Bludhaven from bleeding out. They were giving him oxygen and his wound had been packed.

"Who sent you to Gotham? " Batman asked.

"Go to hell," the man spat out.

"The man who shot you, who sent him?"

The man on the gurney glared at Batman, which was new to the dark crusader of the night.

'Most common thugs are afraid of me,' Batman thought. 'This man has no fear of me.' He had to try a different tactic. "Should I give you over to Nightwing, will that loosen your tongue?"

The mention of Nightwing caused the man's eyes to grow wide then to narrow.

"That costumed creep was shot . . . like the rest of us . . ." the man started to cough and spots of blood appeared on his lips.

"You're bleeding internally," Batman stated. "I don't care whether you live or die. If you know something, you better come clean."

"We've only just begun," the man stated. "There's more where we came from. And no costumed creep is going to stop us."

"All right, that's enough. We better take him."

Batman allowed the paramedics to load the man on the ambulance. There was more here than what he could figure out in just a few minutes. He didn't want to admit he needed Nightwng's help on this one, but he wasn't about to get it. This was bigger than the both of them. For now, he had other things on his mind, such as trying to find out whom it was that shot Nightwing. And he knew where he might find clues to determine that information. Batman reached the abandoned building facing the parking garage where he spotted the glint on metal. He searched the floor and found the possible spot where the shooter knelt. Not a trace of evidence could be found. There were no shell casings. The shooter was a professional. Even the dust in the area had been cleaned to prevent him finding a single footprint.

'The shooter knew where the gunrunners would be and must have come here ahead of everyone else. It might have been as much as 24 hours. It would give the shooter time to clean the floor area. Then something else occurred to him that he had not thought of before.

'This could have been a trap . . . or a warning. Nightwing must be getting close to discovering who is responsible for those deaths. Why go to all the trouble of setting up a trap and killing those men? And all of them were from Bludhaven. The shooter was sent to guarantee if any of them were caught they wouldn't talk . . . And Nightwing . . . he was just an opportunity the shooter could not resist.'

There was no way Batman was going to trace the shooter at this point. There wasn't a shred of evidence to point to whom that person could be.

' . . . Not without going into Bludhaven, Nightwing's . . . territory.' The thought slammed into him like Harley's sledgehammer. That's what he was trying to tell me. Have we grown so far apart that we now see each other's cities as territories where either one wasn't allowed to cross into? We really need to talk . . .' Batman's mind worked on the next piece of the puzzle.

Batman left the abandoned office building and returned to the parking garage. Jim Gordon was waiting for him.

"I take it you wish to talk to the Gotham group?"

"Yes," Batman stated

"I have two men over here for you. Just don't do anything that will come back on the department. I'll be waiting over here."

Batman gave Gordon a nod then approached the two men who were handcuffed. He scrutinized their faces then chose which one was the most likely to spill their guts.

'You and I are going to have a little chat," Batman growled softly.

"No . . . no,' the man plead, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Batman grabbed the man and did the same thing his son had done.

"No! I . . .saw what the . . . other fella did! I'm . . . afraid of . . . heights!'

"Then this will make it easier. Tell me who sold the guns and the ammunition."

"I . . . I . . . don't know. I just got the orders . . . to pick them up."

"From whom?" Batman growled.

"Mr. Cobblepot," the man spilled.

'Penguin . . .' Batman's eyes narrowed. 'He's been trying to muscle in ever since Falconi . . . Though this is the first time something has been connected to him directly. He always manages to slip through the cracks.' Batman switched his tactics. He couldn't trace the shipment back to whomever sold the guns from Bludhaven, but he could stop their delivery. "Do you know what Penguin wants with the guns?"

"No . . . I just take orders . . . Don't pay to ask . . . too many . . . questions," the guy said, trying not to focus on the fact that his feet were dangling out into space. 'It . . . it can get a . . . guy . . . killed."

Batman pulled the man back to safety. He hadn't learned much from this guy. Maybe the other guy was more willing to co-operate. He grabbed the second man, this time dangling him further than the first, dropping the man a couple times like a yoyo. When he finally pulled the man to safety he was more than willing to talk.

"Mr. Cobblepot ordered us to pick up a shipment at this spot. We never figured we'd be in a firefight. I'd rather take my chances in jail."

"Do you know what Penguin's plans are for the guns and ammunition?"

"No, I don't," the second man stated. "He doesn't share his plans. All he told us was to go to this spot and pick them up. He did let slip that the money for Soames would be in three suitcases and that we had to take those with us."

'Soames? Who was Soames?' Batman turned toward Gordon who was once again walking in his direction.

"Did you get what you needed?" Gordon questioned.

"Did you recover any suitcases?" Batman asked instead of answering the Commissioner's question.

"Yeah, there were three suitcases, what's in them?"

"Money, from Oswald Cobblepot."

"The Penguin?"

Batman nodded. "He's at least connected to this in part."

"What would Penguin want with that much fire power?"

"You will want to examine the ammunition," Batman stated.

"What's so special about the ammunition?"

"It's armor piercing," Batman growled remembering the damage that had been done to Nightwing's chest.

"Good God, are you certain?"

Batman didn't say anything, but it was what he didn't say that made the difference.

"No, I suppose you're right," Gordon stated. "If that's true, then every bullet proof vest isn't going to be enough. Armor piercing bullets will go through anything, including the steel plating in our police cruisers. No one is safe with those on the streets. And those came from Bludhaven?"

"Affirmative."

"What does Nightwing have to do with all of this?"

"He was trying to prevent the ammunition and the guns from reaching Gotham's streets."

"Well at least we stopped this shipment, but was this the first or . . ."

"I cannot say," Batman stated. "Not until I speak with Nightwing." Batman added in his own mind. 'But he's not in any shape to tell me.'

"We'll see what we can find out on our end," Gordon turned to face the two men. "In the mean time . . ." he turned back to see that Batman was gone.

After leaving Commissioner Gordon, Batman was very tempted to go after the Penguin, but his worried mind told him he needed to check in with Alfred first. Climbing into the batmobile, he closed and sealed the doors to where no sound could exit and he pushed the call button that connected him to the batcave and specifically to the medical bay where he knew Alfred would be with Nightwing.

"Master Batman?" Alfred answered.

"How is he?" Batman asked, trying to keep the growl out of his voice.

"He is stable and resting comfortably," another voice answered.

"Leslie?" Batman was surprised to hear her voice.

"You should have called me right away and brought him to the clinic," Leslie chastised.

"There wasn't time," Batman stated. "We were closer to the cave . . ."

"Bruce, I don't want any excuses. Dick has lost a lot of blood and that bullet came close to piercing his heart. And don't you dare chastise Alfred for calling me in. He required reconstructive surgery on his ribcage and breastplate. It's going to take months of recovery time. Right now, he's stable and sedated. Whatever you have to do, you better do it and get home. He's going to need you and Alfred to take care of him to keep him from dong something foolish."

Batman picked up the tone of her words. "Did he do something foolish?"

"No less than what you would have done. He tried get up in the middle of surgery. I had to knock him out completely. He mumbled something about not wanting to be a burden and that the cave was your domain."

Batman remained silent after that. He knew Leslie was right, but he needed to do one more thing before he went home. He knew Nightwing would understand. "I shall be home when I can." He knew Leslie would not be pleased with him. The tone of her voice was such that he knew she would have preferred that he drop whatever he was doing and come straight home for the sake of his broken child, but he couldn't. If they were going to wrap up this case on his end, he had to get whatever evidence he could against the Penguin for purchasing the illegal firearms and ammunition. What were Penguin's plans for that much firepower?

Batman drove to the Iceburg Lounge, a place where he knew the Penguin would be found this time of night. If he invaded him now, the Penguin would slip through his grasp. He did know what he could do. Shooting a grapple up to the roof, he found the Penguin's private office. He knew the office was guarded against intrusion, but it wasn't guarded against a different kind of invasion. Batman pulled out several tiny bugging devices. He placed a couple around the window. He knew there was a possibility that at least one of them would be found, so he also placed a couple near the roof line. They were powerful enough to pick up a whisper. At least this way, when the Penguin started his little game, he would be ready to listen.

An hour later, Batman was entering the cave. He moved over to the computer and plugged in several numbers and letters. The devices were now set up to transmit and record. As he worked, he could sense someone standing behind it.

"What is it Dr. Tompkins?"

"Dick has been moved up to his room," Leslie stated. "He needs to stay sedated for at least 72 hours to give his body a chance to start to heal."

"I need to talk to him," Bruce said a little more roughly than he intended.

"I will not have BATMAN talking to him like he's some criminal that needs interrogating. If I have to I will call an ambulance and take him to my clinic and then you will be forbidden to see him until I say so. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Dr.," Batman stated.

"Now, you shall remove that getup and go upstairs and sit with your son," Leslie ordered. "It's high time that you showed some semblance of compassion for that boy. It's you that got him in this mess in the first place."

'I did not force him into this,' Batman thought. 'Nightwing came to me . . . ' Batman though didn't want to argue the point. When Nightwing showed up, Batman should have checked the area before he even tried to help tackle the gunrunners. They were all exposed, out in the open and away from cover. Neither expected that someone from Bludhaven was going to send a marksman to protect the shipment or to silence the men to keep them from talking. Now his son was fighting for his life, all because he questioned his right to be there and allowed a gunman to get in a lucky shot. He should have secured the area, made certain that there weren't traps set to catch them by surprise. Unfortunately, he did not do that, and Nightwing . . . Dick was paying the price for his mistake.

Batman moved to the changing room and removed his cowl. He placed it on its customary stand. He was about to remove his uniform when he spied Nightwing's bloody uniform still on the floor. He picked it up and fingered the gaping hole in the material. He could feel the broken fibers of the Kevlar weave that had been ripped to shreds, and images of Nightwing's face and bloodied chest invaded his psychi. Bruce knew he would not be able to sleep with that image in his mind. His son was almost . . . No, he was alive, that much was certain. He was up in his bed . . . Bruce's head lifted up toward the ceiling and he let the uniform drop to the floor. Grabbing a robe, he moved quickly through the cave and up the stairs to the Manor. He covered his uniform with the robe, not caring that he was breaking his own rule. He had to see Dick, not only to ease the guilt that he felt, but to also make sure that what Doctor Tompkins had said was true. In many ways, he let his own folly do this. He was so overjoyed to see his son that he let his caution slip away. He also allowed Batman to overrule those emotions before he had a chance to express them. The persona that was Batman seemed to be in control more and more.

'You have a job to do,' Batman stated.

'It can wait. He nearly died tonight. Would you have wanted that on your conscience?'

Batman remained silent.

'I didn't think so.'

Bruce finished changing then headed upstairs to the second floor. He wasn't prepared when he entered Dick's room. The boy . . . and for a moment that's how he saw the young man . . . the orphaned boy that he had taken in one fateful night from the circus, he never saw him so still in all of his life except when he was sleeping. The young man's face was almost as white as the sheet that covered the lower half of the young man's body. The machines that Dr. Tompkins moved into Dick's room were the only things that disturbed the silence. Bruce wasn't even aware of the tall thin figure that stood in the shadows until his knees started to buckle and the figure pushed a chair behind him so he wouldn't fall on the floor. He felt a gentle familiar hand on his shoulder.

"He shall pull through, Master Bruce. He . . . he has his father's spirit."

"Yeah . . . I guess so . . . John Grayson . . ."

"No, Master Bruce," Alfred stated. "I am not talking about Mr. Grayson. They may have given that boy life, shown him love, and taught him how to do some fancy tricks on a trapeze, but you taught that boy how to soar higher and farther than they ever could. You gave him a purpose that makes a difference. And it is not John Grayson who is sitting here, though if he were alive Master Richard would not be here . . . When that boy wakes up, it will be your face that he sees."

Alfred's words struck Bruce in such a way that left him speechless. Alfred had always told him the truth. Did Dick really see him as his father? He never wanted to replace Dick's parents, but somewhere along the line and over the years, Richard John Grayson had become more than just his ward and protégé. He had become his son.

Bruce reached up to brush the hair out of Dick's eyes. 'He needs a hair cut,' he thought.

"I take it you shall be here until he wakes?" Alfred asked.

"You know me all too well, Alfred," Bruce said with a slight smile.

"You do know that Doctor Tompkins has ordered that he be kept sedated for at least 72 hours?"

Bruce nodded, "Yeah, I know. I'm probably not going to get much sleep until he wakes up."

"I'll move a cot in here in any case."

Bruce watched as Alfred left to retrieve the mentioned cot then turned back to stare at his comatose son. He picked up his child's hand and grasped it in his own.

"Dick, I hope you can feel my hand. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Bruce let the silence fall between them one more time. It was awkward having a one-sided conversation, but it was better than . . . No, he did not want to go there. He had to be grateful that his son was deeply sedated and not . . .

Pressing his son's hand against his lips, Bruce said, "I wanted to talk to you . . . about what you said. You aren't an intrusion. Gotham . . . The Manor . . . even the cave . . . They're your home, Dick. Gotham may seem like its Batman's City, but it's your territory too. Don't ever think that you're not welcome. I sent you on a mission. I wasn't . . . telling you . . . I wasn't throwing you out of Gotham. I . . . I . . . still need you . . . Even if I don't often say it. Please, Dick, just get well . . . Don't . . . "

Bruce swallowed the last words that were left on his tongue. It was bad enough when he lost Jason. He couldn't bear to lose Dick as well. Bruce covered his face with his hands letting the tears fall.

Continues with Part 3


	3. Chapter 3

Territory

By

AJ

Part 3

Tim Drake arrived at the cave early Sunday morning wearing his newly designed Robin uniform. Though he had been honored to wear what amounted to be Dick Grayson and Jason Todd's old uniform, he was more practical than the others had been.

'Glad I thought about creating leggings for this uniform. The utility belt is better as well. I can fit in more equipment. The cape could probably use a little something so I can hide in the shadows better, though I wonder how Dick ever did. I may have to ask him. And having a full body suit means I don't look like I'm wearing . . . green . . . briefs. Didn't realize it was a body suit underneath the red vest until I put it on the first time. Plus, adding pockets on the sleeves gives added places for smaller weapons.'

He had been away at the Titans Tower over the weekend, excited to share that they had accepted him as the new Robin and their new leader. He was also disappointed to find that Batman wasn't down in the cave. He did find Alfred cleaning up the medical bay. He noticed there was a lot of blood-soaked gauze in a bucket for disposal. He learned from Alfred that all medical waste was taken to the old coal-fired furnace and burned. Some of the materials that could not be burned were sent to Leslie's clinic to be disposed of with her supplies. Seeing the blood-soaked gauze caused a lump in Tim's throat to drop to his stomach. Trepidation and fear took over as Tim imagined all kinds of things that might have happened. He was supposed to watch Batman's back. Had he failed in doing so because he had been with the Titans? Guilt filled him at not being there when Batman needed him. Tim feared the worst.

"Alfred? Is Bruce all right?" Tim asked.

"Master Bruce is fine," Alfred stated.

"Then whose blood is . . .?"

'Bloody hell,' Alfred thought, cringing at the pun that he just made. Time had slipped away from them and he should have realized that Tim would be back soon. "It is . . . It is . . . Master Nightwing's . . ."

"Dick's? What . . . what happened? Is he all right? He's not . . . he's not . . ." Tim was near tears. The young man that he watched growing up as Robin, his childhood hero . . . couldn't be . . .

"Easy Master Timothy," Alfred said, trying to sooth the boy's fears. "Master Richard is . . . hurt . . . but he's not dead." Alfred said, trying to soften the blow, 'Luckily.'

"He's . . . a . . . alive . . ." Tim said, letting Alfred's words sink in and breathe a sigh of relief. "But . . . the blood . . ."

"Master Richard did lose a lot of blood, but with time, he should recover. He is upstairs in his room."

"Can I see him?"

"Master Bruce is with him. You can do me a great favor Master Timothy," Alfred said.

"What?"

"You can relieve Master Bruce. He needs sleep . . ."

". . . And he won't leave Dick's side," Tim stated, finishing Alfred's statement for him. "Sure Alfred. I better get showered and changed. I need to call my Mom and Dad. They probably want to hear from me. We haven't talked since they left for Europe . . ."

Tim stopped talking when he realized he was rambling. When his parents left town, Bruce offered Tim a place to stay while they were away. Their housekeeper was also away due to a family emergency. And even though Tim was old enough to take care of himself, it was an opportunity for Tim to get in some extra training and get to know the Titans as well.

"Sorry, Alfred . . . I didn't mean to bore you with . . . my problems."

"You're problems do not bore me, Master Timothy," Alfred responded. "I shall prepare you some breakfast while you shower and change. I shall see you in the kitchen."

As Tim changed he wondered why hadn't Alfred been fully candid with him. He said that Dick had been hurt, but he observed there was more than just a lot of bloody gauze that Alfred had been cleaning up. There were surgical instruments as well. It didn't look like it had been that long either. What had happened? After changing Tim took the secret stairs to the Manor and entered the kitchen. Alfred had a hot breakfast waiting for him. This was why he liked staying with Bruce. The housekeeper at his own home was a good cook, but you could always count on Alfred to do something special on a Sunday morning.

After finishing his breakfast, Tim rushed up the stairs toward the bedrooms. He found it odd that it was quiet. Usually when he came close to Dick's room, if Bruce was inside sometimes their conversations carried out into the hallway, but this time . . .

Tim crept up to the door and his face became ashen. 'No . . . Dick . . .' A heart machine was beeping out a steady rhythm that told Tim that Dick was alive. A respirator was also assisting Dick to breath. It was so surreal. He had visited Dick last week in Bludhaven and they had a great time, testing themselves on top of the trains, but seeing him like this . . . unnerved the teen.

"Bruce?" Tim whispered as he came into the room. "What . . . what happened?"

Bruce lifted a weary head to see Tim standing in the doorway. 'He shouldn't have to see this . . .'

'Bruce, please," Tim approached cautiously. "Why is Dick hooked up to a heart monitor and a respirator?"

Tim walked over to the bed to see Dick's chest wrapped in bandages, evidence that some kind of major surgery had been performed. Tim could not believe how pale Dick's skin was . . . and how much younger he looked under these conditions. Dick was only five years older than he was, and yet he always appeared older due to his experience. His body was riddled with scars, much like Bruce's and yet, on him the scars didn't look quite as pronounced. Still Tim was drawn to the newest scar hidden under the gauze and tape that covered Dick's chest.

"Bruce . . . Please tell me," Tim begged. "Don't I have a right to know?"

Bruce gave out a sigh and realized that Tim would have found out anyway since he was staying here while his parents were in Europe. You could not hide something like major surgery.

"Dick was shot," Bruce said, his voice low and filled with emotion.

"How?" Tim questioned, his eyes starting to tear up.

Bruce went on to explain what happened. "Neither of us expected a sniper to be there, guarding the shipment of guns that were being brought into Gotham. That sniper went on to kill almost every man from Bludhaven. Only one survived. He's under police guard at Gotham General. Gordon made sure he was placed in a room with no windows just in case the shooter returned."

"Does the guy know anything?"

"If he does, he's not talking," Bruce added.

"Alfred told me to relieve you. He said you need sleep," Tim said. "I can watch him and I'll let you know as soon as he comes to."

"He's supposed to be sedated for 72 hours. It's been only . . ." Bruce looked at his watch. "Four hours since the surgery," Bruce said.

"So, get some sleep, he'll be here when you get back," Tim coaxed. "If you don't, you know what Alfred will do."

"You're right, and Alfred isn't as nice about it," Bruce joked, though the joke fell a little flat. There was some truth in that joke as well. Alfred would give him such a stare it would rival him. Bruce shuddered at that thought. 'Then he probably would burn my dinner just to make a point.' Bruce looked into the 14-year-old's eyes, "You won't leave him?"

It wasn't easy for Bruce to ask that of Tim. Their first six months together as partners wasn't easy. Bruce was aware that Tim was trying to prove to him that he could be Robin. And Bruce was realizing that Tim Drake was a talented teen in his own right. He did have some natural athletic ability, but he didn't have the acrobatic skills that Dick had. Still, he was willing to learn and to listen. He also had his parents, which made for a different dynamic between them. Bruce was more of a mentor, an employer, which at the same time bothered him. It kept their relationship more on a professional level. Still, he could not help growing fond of the boy. Tim was a likable person, and at times reminded him of Dick in some ways, but he was also more serious and practical in his approach. Bruce observed that Tim knew his limits, and yet he would push himself to go farther. Plus, there was no anger within the youth. He didn't see Dick as a rival or tried to out do him at every turn. It seemed to Bruce that Tim actually needed a little more confidence when it came to his abilities as an acrobat.

'He'll get there with time.' Batman thought. 'I know I made a promise to take it one day at a time . . . but I can't help but think that it's a mistake.'

Tim's words though echoed in his head. "Batman needs a Robin," and Bruce was slowly realizing that maybe he did need someone to remind him that he needed to slow down. Bruce marveled how the boy followed his orders, but his instincts were just as good at knowing when to react. He was also turning into a very good detective, studying every detail.

Tim placed a comforting hand on Bruce's arm bringing him out of his thoughts, a gesture that he often used with his own father when Jack Drake would drift into thought. "I won't leave him. I promise, and I'll call you immediately when he wakes up."

Tim watched Bruce heading toward the door then turned back. He noticed the older man had a pained look on his face, as if he wasn't going to see Dick ever again. A shudder ran up Tim's spine. 'I hope I haven't made an empty promise. I better grab something to read while I'm here.'

Tim grabbed a book off of Dick's shelf. It had been one of Dick's favorites and it turned into one of his as well. How he knew was because Dick had turned the book upside down on the shelf where the words were reversed. It made for easy access to the book, and to the story. Tim simply returned it that way whenever he started reading it and added a bookmark to save the page he had stopped on. Tim flipped through the book and found where he had left off the last time he pulled the book from Dick's shelf. He sat in the chair that Bruce vacated and started to read.

That reassurance that Tim gave him allowed Bruce to leave, at least a few short hours at the most. He doubted Dick would be awake any time soon, since he was heavily sedated. Bruce gave a sigh and moved to his own room and plopped on the bed not even bothering to remove his robe or get under the covers. He was still partially in uniform and at the moment, he didn't care. Bruce only wanted to close his eyes for a couple of hours, but he did not expect to find that it was dark outside when he finally returned to full wakefulness. Thankfully, he didn't have any nightmares to compound the issue. Even so, he was disturbed just the same.

'Why didn't someone wake me?'

Bruce raced down the hall and opened the door to relieve Tim, but what he saw caused his heart to drop. Tim's head was resting on the bed . . . the empty bed . . . and the doors to Dick's private balcony were open.

"Tim!" Bruce rushed forward and woke his current partner. "Tim, wake up."

"Huh? . . . What?" Tim rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He must have fallen asleep.

"Tim . . . Where's Dick?"

"What?" Tim looked around in confusion.

Bruce examined the bed and found that the heart monitor's leads as well as the respirator had been pulled off. He found the IV needle and its tubing draped on the floor. Could Dick actually have done this?

'How did he fight the sedation? Alfred assured me that he would be sedated for 72 hours. It hasn't been nearly that long. How long has he been gone and where did he go?'

Within moments Tim also realized that Dick was gone. He hadn't heard a thing.

Bruce raced from Dick's room with Tim on his heals. The only place he could think of was the cave. Dick might have gone down there to get his uniform, but his uniform was in tatters from Alfred having to cut it off of him from his injury. Bruce raced down the stairs and down the secret passage through the clock. He found Dick staggering toward an old motorcycle wearing what was left of his Nightwing uniform.

"And where do you think you're going?" Bruce stated as he grabbed Dick by the arm and carefully turned him around to face him. Bruce could see through the torn fabric the bandage covering Dick's sutures where the bullet was removed was soaked with blood. In his struggle to remove the medical apparatuses and leave his room, Dick must have torn them open.

"Must . . . get back . . . to my . . . territory . . ." Dick's words were slurred.

"You're not going anywhere. You've torn your stitches. They need repair."

Dick struggled from Bruce's grasp, but Bruce held onto him tight, afraid that Dick would hurt himself further.

"Dick, you're not going anywhere. GET A SEDATIVE NOW!" Bruce yelled over his shoulder.

Tim raced to the medical bay and grabbed a syringe that Alfred always kept on hand. He plunged it into Dick's arm and the nineteen-year-old collapsed in his former guardian's arms.

Bruce picked Dick up and carried him over to the medical bay.

"Get Alfred, he needs patching up."

"How could Dick fight off that sedative and where was he going to go?" Tim asked

Bruce didn't answer, but knew more than what he was letting on. Dick was determined to keep out of Gotham from the last words they had exchanged.

'I've got to fix this, but . . . I don't know if I can . . .' Bruce's heart ached at what has become of their relationship. They meant so much to each other at one time, and that time had not been that long ago. 'I'm not giving up. He's my son. I need to tell him he's still a part of this family.'

"Bruce, Alfred's coming. I found him in the laundry room. I don't understand. What's Dick talking about? Going back to his territory?" Tim asked.

Bruce brushed his hand along Dick's fevered brow and wiped his hair out of his eyes. He was going to need an antibiotic to stem off infection. "Dick's got it in his head that Gotham is strictly my territory . . . that he's not welcomed here."

"But he grew up here with you."

Alfred approached silently and took over for Bruce. He grabbed the scissors and started cutting away the bandages to get at the torn sutures. There was a look of disapproval on his face. He could hear the conversation that Tim and Bruce were having and it did not set well. He watched as Bruce and Master Timothy moved away to continue their conversation.

"Dick has always had somewhat of a restless spirit, Tim.," Bruce stated. "I may have helped raise him, but the wonder lust is also a part of him. Comes from having been born in a traveling circus and having lived there for the first eight years of his life. He's not going to be anywhere where he feels he's not wanted."

"But this is his home," Tim argued.

"Trying to tell him that right now . . . he won't listen," Bruce said.

"But . . . he's got to stay here so he can heal . . ." Tim whispered, tears present in his eyes. 'What will happen if . . ."

Bruce gave Tim a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. He's not going anywhere. Between the three of us, we'll be able to keep him here. He's not going to be doing much for the next three months at least. He's had reconstructive surgery on that breastplate. That's going to take time to heal."

"Bruce, if Dick thinks that Bludhaven is his territory, maybe you should just give him your blessing over it."

Bruce turned to stare at Tim. 'Out of the mouth of babes . . .' Even so, he wanted to hear what Tim had to say on the subject. "Explain."

"Well, I couldn't help notice that you and Dick have been . . . well . . . arguing. Maybe you need some space from each other."

"It's not that simple . . ."

"Maybe it is," Tim argued. "Whenever my father and I get on each others nerves sometimes just getting away from each other helps."

"Your parents seem to do a lot of traveling . . . And they also seem to leave you alone a lot," Bruce observed, trying to change the subject. "You've had lots of time to think about this."

"Well, I can't be traveling during school," Tim said, "But I've traveled with them when I can. And they want me to get a good education. But I'm not the subject here. You and Dick are."

"Tim, what are you driving at?" Bruce asked.

"For a detective, sometimes you're really dense, sorry Bruce. Look, I'm just saying that . . . well . . . Isn't Dick . . . like . . . your son?" Tim asked. "I see the way he looks at you and you at him. He loves you and well, he still wants to help . . . And well . . . you haven't . . . You haven't made things . . ."

" . . . I haven't made it easy."

"No . . . not even with me . . . and Robin is supposed to be your . . . that is Batman's partner. Dick used to be Robin and well . . . he's Nightwing now . . . and well . . . that doesn't mean he still can't act as your partner if he needs to. What harm can it do? You used to tell each other everything."

"How would you know that?" Bruce asked curious.

"Remember, I've watched you for years. The way you worked together, I figured you and Dick always talked, especially with cases. That shouldn't change just because he's no longer Robin . . . And even if he establishes Bludhaven as his territory . . ."

"Tim, sometimes I keep forgetting how wise you are at such a young age," Bruce said. "So you think Dick needs his own territory?"

"I think he needs to know that you don't mind him being in your territory, that Gotham is still his territory when he's here. And yeah, I think he does need his own territory so he can feel like he's . . . He's still doing what he needs to do," Tim pointed out. "And when I'm with the Titans, Dick can still be here to help you when you need it. Think about it. You've got more than one ally here. Before you just had Dick. Then you had Jason and Dick. Now you have Dick and I. The more allies you have the more chances to fight crime in Gotham and potentially in other places like Bludhaven. And if someone from Bludhaven wants to muscle in on Gotham, you have someone in Bludhaven who can keep an eye on them."

"You're forgetting two others," Bruce mentioned.

"Who did I forget?"

"Batgirl and Alfred."

"Sorry Alfred," Tim shot a look over his shoulder. "I've never met . . ."

"You will," Bruce stated. "Anyway . . . we better get my wayward son back to his small territory upstairs. Do you think you can help keep him there?"

Tim was glad that Bruce did not blame him for Dick trying to leave. Tim looked over to see that Alfred was finishing up and reapplying the bandages to Dick's chest.

"I think he's going to need restrains," Alfred stated.

"Oh that will go over well," Bruce chuckled.

Tim couldn't help smile at that remark. "Do you think he'll let me invade his territory to get the book I was reading?"

"You'll have to ask him," Bruce replied. "But we can make an exception at this point."

Bruce watched Tim leave the cave. Tim's words did make a lot of sense. Both of them had been skirting the issue . . . ever since Dick changed his secret identity into Nightwing. Dick was growing up . . . A realization that Bruce had yet to face. And with Jason's death . . . It hurt so much that all he did was drive Dick away when all Dick wanted to do was help him through the pain. Instead the pain blinded him and Bruce decided he no longer wanted a partner . . . Until Tim convinced him otherwise. And then seeing Nightwing . . . seeing the acrobat . . . taking risks . . . no using his skills to their fullest potential . . . wasn't that what he wanted? Didn't he say at one time that Robin wasn't meant to be his partner for the rest of his life? And yet, here he had a Robin, again.

Now his son was truly going out on his own . . . actually had been for two years, since college, though that did not last. Didn't he want his son to establish a place for himself? Didn't he want Dick to be independent and to be his own man? And yet, when he sent him to Bludhaven . . . Bruce could not help seeing the look in Dick's eyes. Dick did go . . . but there was hurt there . . . rejection there.

'As if I was punishing him for screwing up . . .' Bruce thought. 'I sent him home . . . Treated him like a child . . . then I sent him to Bludhaven. We never talked about what happened. I should have explained, told him what was going on. We have a lot to talk about.'

It looks like they still had a ways to go, but for now . . . Dick needed healing both in body and in mind.

'We both need healing. I feel like I was the one shot,' Bruce thought. 'I need him . . . Without him . . . I'm not whole. Truth be told, I've had a partner for so long I can't see myself without one. I can work alone, but do I really want to.'

Bruce looked around the bat cave and realized that this too was a territory of sorts . . . Batman's territory . . . but it was Robin's as well . . . And it could be Nightwing's . . . Dick's again . . . if Dick would only realize it.

'I let him in . . . And I cannot keep him out . . . And I realize I don't want to. Without him . . . No I should say both of them . . . This cave . . . is ours . . . not just . . .'

Bruce didn't want to continue the thought. Instead, he noticed that Alfred was waiting for him with his son on a gurney.

"Come on Alfred, let's put him to bed."

End?

_**A/N: I didn't expect this three-part story to take so long to write. And which direction the story was going to take as well. I thought it was going to be a one shot while I worked on my other stories . . . until Nightwing was shot. Then I thought that Batman was going to investigate further into the gunrunners. Well, it looks like that investigation has been put on hold until Nightwing gets better. Will there be a sequel? I don't know. What do you think? Oh by the way Jason will not be appearing in this story. Jason has been dead for nine months.**_

_**Oh don't forget to check out my other stories if you're new and if you haven't read them as well.**_


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